


just say the word

by owlaashi



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A heck of a lot of making out, Blow Jobs, Cigar Burns, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Knives, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, More violence int he form of Andrew Minyard, Multi, Neil is Nathaniel, Physical Abuse, There's a happy ending somewhere, Threats, Verbal Abuse, and even more in the form of Nathaniel Wesninski, lots of yelling, mentions of sexual abuse, violence in the form of riko moriyama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaashi/pseuds/owlaashi
Summary: Nathaniel Wesninski, the third piece of Riko Moriyama's perfect court, is sent to Columbia to dig up dirt on one Andrew Minyard to force his hand in signing a contract with the Edgar Allen Ravens, but it won't be so easy and Nathaniel learns the hard way that sometimes selling yourself has a higher price than he ever imagined.
Relationships: Nathaniel Wesninski/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 17
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I said to my friend "Okay but what if Neil ended up playing for the Ravens?" and she said "Romeo and Juliet Andriel!" and this is how this fic was born. It was an entire 24 hours rush of small novellas sent to each other via discord to get everything planned out to make some sense. I just hope that you all love this as much as we do.
> 
> I added a lot of tags that are going to end up in future chapters that I can think of right now, but if I leave anything out I'll add them in as the chapter's progress!
> 
> Yell at me over on Twitter @kittsukii

Four identical contracts lay signed on the dark mahogany desk in Tetsuji Moriyama’s office, all with a black Edgar Allen University pen sitting horizontal across the top. All of them promised an outstanding five years playing Exy for the top rated school in the NCAA Class 1 division, all of which also promised that each of them would secure a spot on the US Court following graduation. The four men, Riko Moriyama, Kevin Day, Nathaniel Wesninski and Jean Moreau all bowed at their master, and turned to leave in single file line out the door and back into The Nest. 

The Nest was an underground living quarters beneath Evermore Castle, where both the Edgar Allen Ravens and the US Court played games, the Ravens only know The Nest as home. It’s covered in black from floor to ceilings, with deep blood red accents throughout. It was as cold as can imagine, not only in temperature for it was kept at the perfect cool temperature to not cramp athletes muscles but not warm enough to be considered cozy, but also the lack of personalization marked a more cell like feel. It was, however, the only home the four men have ever known since they were old enough to remember it seemed. 

Riko led the way to one of the open seating areas, and the four of them finally took a seat, Kevin and Riko on one of the black sofas’ and Nathaniel and Jean in the two armchairs off the couches center. At the same time they folded their left leg over their right and leaned back into their chosen seating. This synchronicity was a side effect of the Raven’s, of growing up at Evermore castle under the careful eye of Coach Moriyama and of being the property of his nephew Riko. The Ravens were known for their Hivemind, they were known for traveling everywhere in pairs, for not having anything outside of the Ravens. Which had always been a no contest for the three of them as Exy was all any of them had, and the Moriyama’s and Riko gave them a home when no one else would. 

Riko Moriyama was the nephew of Tetsuji Moriyama and the second son of Kengo Moriyama the head of the main family, but despite being sent away Tetsuji gave Riko anything he wanted and what Riko wanted was to own the best team in Exy history. Kevin, Nathaniel and Jean were property of Riko, given to him by his uncle and left to do with them as he pleased; which meant making them into his own vision. Though, a proper Exy team needs to have six people on the court at all times, and as of right now Riko only has handpicked three of those positions not including himself, which makes four. 

Both Riko and Kevin were raised to be strikers, the offensive players on Riko’s perfect court and wear the numbers one and two. Nathaniel and Jean were raised to be two-thirds of their perfect, unbreakable defense as the two backliners, numbers three and four. Over the end of the year, Riko had been working extensively to fill in the number five spot, which would be their perfect goalie and make the perfect defense. 

“The time to strike is now, we don’t have much time left and I  _ need _ him on my team.” Riko broke the silence, sending a look toward Nathaniel and Jean, his right hand tightening its grip where he had it wrapped around his calf. “There’s no room for a no. I don’t care what it takes, do you understand me?”

Nathaniel knew he was talking about Andrew Minyard, a goalie currently living in Columbia that Riko had been keeping an eye on during the last half of their year. They’d managed to dig up a fair amount of information on the kid, knowing he has a twin brother and a cousin that he lives with, they were able to find out he spent a good amount of time in foster care, and he spent some time in juvie and he worked a part-time job at some a club called Eden’s Twilight. But Riko has an intense need to know everything there is to know about someone; which is where Nathaniel and Jean come in. 

Riko told them last week that the following Friday after their contracts were signed that Nathaniel and Jean were to pack a weekend bag, because they were going to be boarding a plane and headed to Columbia for the weekend to find out whatever they could on Andrew Minyard. Weekdays would be for Exy, and weekends would be for the sake of Riko’s perfect court. Neither of them had anything to say to that other than a nod of their heads, when Riko asked something they did it.

“Understood.” Nathaniel’s voice followed, the fingers of his left hand brushing over the tattooed three under his left eye. 

Nathaniel Wesninski, freshmen backliner for the Edgar Allen Ravens, the third person handpicked for Riko’s perfect court and, much like his father, the muscle behind Riko Moriyama. Where his father was the muscle behind the main family, Nathaniel was the muscle behind Riko when he didn’t want to get his hands dirty. Despite growing up despising his father, The Butcher of Baltimore, it's because of him and his people that Nathaniel learned how to fight; both with his fists, his threats, knives and guns. 

Jean shoots him a look, one that isn’t missed by any of them, especially Riko. Unlike Riko and Nathaniel, Jean is a little less for the forceable tactics unless it’s absolutely needed, and judging by the file they’d all read Nathaniel has a feeling he’s more worried about what Andrew would do to them, versus what Riko would do if he asked to not tag along. 

“Is there a problem, Jean?” Riko’s gaze turned wicked the second he opened his mouth again, throwing his whole body forward in his seat toward the taller of them. Murderous intent rolling off of him in waves that cause Kevin to shrink in his seat despite not being the one under the gaze. 

“No.” Nathaniel answers loud and strong, returning his own look back at Riko. All the breaking in the world wouldn’t do any good for him, his father's genes were too strong and his attitude too ironclad to break; “One of these days,” Riko had promised him, “it will be your downfall.” Nathaniel refused to believe him. 

A wall clock, the numbers in roman numerals spaced out in a circle with the arms in the middle, took up a commanding space against the wall, the whole thing a deep blood red against the black paint let the four of them know that Nathaniel and Jean’s plane would be leaving in five hours. They had enough time to pack and start heading to the airport if they wanted to make it with some time to spare, and right now was not the time to pick fights with each other. Though, from reading through what little they had on Andrew, maybe showing up with a few bruises was a good idea. Nathaniel wouldn’t let Jean take that beating though. 

“Let’s go, we don’t want to be late.” Nathaniel pushes himself from the chair at the same time Jean and Riko do, and just barely makes it between the two of them. His right hand raises without anyone noticing, and he presses it firmly in the center of Riko’s chest a warning. What little color was in Jean’s face fades, and Kevin looks away from the three of them like if he doesn’t look it’s not actually happening. Nathaniel doesn’t turn his gaze away from Riko, but does change to French to talk to Jean. “Go.” 

Jean doesn’t waste time, and slips from behind Nathaniel to the hallway. Riko’s gaze just follows Jean long enough to annoy Nathaniel, and the muscles in his arm send a push toward the center of Riko’s chest to get him to back off. “I’ll take care of it.” 

As soon as Nathaniel turns to walk away, Riko’s got a death grip on his right arm that is sure to leave finger shaped bruises there, he doesn’t have to turn around to know that Riko’s murderous gaze is all on him now. He can feel it like daggers in the back of his head. “Don’t ever speak in French again.” The grip tightens, waiting for an answer. 

“I’ll text you as soon as we land.” 

Jean was obediently waiting for Nathaniel in the hallway when he left the sitting area and they walked silently, side by side until they reached their own rooms. The bags they’d left on their beds that morning were still there, half packed and waiting to be closed. Jean was the first one through the door, walking straight over to his dresser to finish his packing, wanting to get out of here as fast as he could after that stint in the sitting area. Nathaniel followed after him making sure to shut the door behind him. 

Their dorm rooms were much the same as the rest of The Nest. There were black floors and walls, two twin beds on either side of the room, some shelves built into the headboards, each of the beds had a matching dresser and nightstand all the wood as dark as they could get it. On the far side of beds there was one large closet divided into two sections for each of them. All of the dorms looked like this, on both the Black and the Red side of The Nest. The Red hallway was where the rest of the Raven players housed, in nearly identical everything. Riko, Kevin, Nathaniel and Jean were the only Ravens to stay housed in Black away from the rest of their team. 

“Are you trying to get yourself beaten to a pulp?” Nathaniel asked, the french rolling off his tongue like a second skin, as he tossed a couple of folded shirts into his bag. “We’re supposed to do anything we can to get this kid to sign with us, not do anything we can to get on a plane covered in burns and bruises.” 

“You read the kids’ file, do you really think anything we do is going to get him to sign?” Jean pressed, as he finished his packing and zipped his bag. “He’s not going to go down without a fight.” 

Nathaniel snorted, zipping his own bag once he’d slipped into a few last minute items. “We’re not going down to sign him, Jean. The reason we’re going down there is to find a reason to  _ make _ him sign with us.” Cool blue eyes flickered from where he was gathering his wallet and phone to his roommate and pair, coaxing him to finish when he needed before they were to leave. “The formal introduction won’t happen till later.” 

Both Nathaniel and Jean grabbed their belongings and made their way from The Nest to the outside world once again, pulling into one of the many black Suburbans that the Ravens owned; all black and all with custom license plates to signal which player was driving. Riko and Kevin were seated in the driver and front seat, so Nathaniel and Jean slid into the back, their bags between them. The ride to Yeagar airport was quiet, save for the quiet radio that was playing in the background; Nathaniel spent the entire drive there staring out the back window, mulling over just how he and Jean were going to get this information from Andrew. Though he knew that no matter how many ideas he thought of nothing was going to matter until he first met him. 

Riko said nothing to them as they exited the car when they finally arrived, Nathaniel clapped Kevin on the shoulder on his way out and waited for Jean who hung back for a tongue lashing from Riko, no doubt. Once Jean was out, he looked at Nathaniel with a renewed sense of self, and they were walking in sync to the doors before the Suburban was even able to fully pull away. The check-in went smoothly, they received their boarding passes, and headed off toward their security check-point and made it through within an hour before boarding. 

Both Nathaniel and Jean stopped to grab a coffee, and something to eat before heading to find two seats near their gate, still forty minutes to go. Plenty of time to eat their meal and figure a plan of attack, before they’d need to get some rest. It wouldn’t take long to get there, but from what they found out Andrew worked at a nightclub, and to get the proper information they’d need to be there all night long. Nathaniel was the last to finish, so he gathered up what was left of their meal and brought it over to the trash.

“The real trick is going to be figuring out which one is Andrew and which one is his twin Aaron. They both work at the nightclub with their cousin Nicky, who is a bartender. Apparently both of the twins work behind the bar, cleaning and stocking. It’s probably a smart idea to just watch tonight.” Nathaniel sat back down in the seat next to Jean, stretching his legs out as far as they’d go, and rested his head against the back of his seat. After a long stretch of silence, he uses the foot closet to Jean to shove into his ankle. “Jean.”

“Right, but how are we,” Jean broke off halfway through his sentence to look around them. Not satisfied, he switched over to french to continue the rest of his sentence. “How are we supposed to get into a club, we’re not even of age.” The taller of the two angled his body to face Nathaniel as best he could in the small seat. 

“It’s covered.” Nathaniel replied back in English, letting his head loll to the side toward his pair, raising an eyebrow back in question when Jean didn’t say anything. “Don’t worry so much, think of this as a vacation. This is going to be a piece of cake compared to what’s waiting for us on Monday, yeah?” 

Jean let out a huff, but turned himself away settling into his seat to kill the remainder of the time until they board their flight. He glanced over at the board, noting they still had another twenty minutes before they were headed to South Carolina for the weekend. It seemed hard to believe that anything Riko sent the two of them on could be considered a vacation — that he’d learned the hard way one to many times. But he couldn’t ever fault Nathaniel for it, they all had their place in Riko’s twisted hierarchy, and it just so happened that in addition to being part of Riko’s perfect court he was also the reason Riko didn’t have to get his hands too dirty. 

In twenty minutes he’d be on a plane, hours away from Riko, hours away from getting an Exy racquet over his thighs, or his knuckles, away from cigar burns and shallow cuts. Maybe Nathaniel was right, maybe this is a vacation. When the attendant calls for their boarding group to line up at the gate Jean is the first one out of his seat. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm dedicating this chapter to [sparks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklepinkpixie/pseuds/Sparks) because without her this fic would not have seen the light of day, and also she's the best beta reader ~

Nathaniel and Jean fortunately don’t have to wait at baggage claim, they do however, have to wait for the man behind the rental car counter to look up their car information for a third time now. It’s quite frankly grating on Nathaniel's nerves and by the way he's licking at his teeth he’s sure that Jean can tell. Jean takes a piece of paper from the desk and a pen and resorts to writing down their information, and the conformation number they received for the car. Both of their licenses are resting on the small counter lip, along with the now filled out piece of paper Jean slides over. He doesn’t pay much attention as the man smiles politely at Jean and avoids looking in Nathaniel’s direction. 

The phone in his possession buzzes with an incoming message, and pulls his attention from the mess at the counter to the message flashing across the screen. Blue eyes roll so hard he can feel it in his nerves as he reads the name coming through on all six text messages.  _ Riko _ . 

Punching in the code to unlock his phone, Nathaniel scrolls through the messages he’d received while in the air. The first two were thinly veiled threats reminding them they were there for a reason, and not to get carried away or else, but the next few messages were actually what he wanted to see — more information. Riko had managed to find out some more information about Andrew’s cousin, Nicky Hemmick, and was able to send them a picture from his social media. 

Quickly he typed out a message to send back, letting Riko know they’d landed and once they were able to get their hotel settled they’d head over to Eden’s and start getting information. Once he’d hit send he slid the phone back into his pocket and ignored the next couple of buzzes for the time being. 

Nathaniel’s arms cross over his chest, watching Jean out of the corner of his eye as his pair deals with the reservation paperwork all over again. “Do you have the credit card? For the fee’s.” Jean’s voice cuts through his ears. Without a word he reaches for his wallet and slides out the team card, then hands it over to Jean who takes it carefully. 

The card isn’t gone for more than a couple minutes before Jean is handing back the card and his license, a key ring dangling from his index finger. “Took ‘em fucking long enough.” Nathaniel comments, sliding the card and id back into his wallet, sending the man behind the counter an annoyed look. “Let’s go, we’re already losing time.” 

Grabbing his bag Nathaniel heads toward the automatic doors, Jean hot on his heels with the keys and description of their vehicle. Jean takes them over to a sleek, black BMW 740 and they’re both quite impressed. Albeit taken aback, as it’s much smaller than what they’re used to driving. They both toss their bags into the backseat of the car, and Nathaniel takes up the passenger seat leaving Jean to walk around to the drivers. 

Using the in car navigation system Jean inputs the address of their hotel and pulls them out into unfamiliar traffic. Nathaniel messes with the seating adjustments, the air, the radio, practically anything he can get his hands on. “We got a picture of the cousin, and some other information we can use. Apparently there are three bartenders and the cousin is one of them” He deems nothing good on the radio and gives up. 

“So basically we just have to hope that some seats on whatever side of the bar he’s on are open and maybe we can get an in through him.” Jean switches lanes, keeping to the speed limit. “Or at least that’s what would happen in a perfect world. Did Riko say anything else?” 

“Oh just that if we don’t do our jobs he’s got a new pocket knife he wants to play with.” Just saying it out loud makes all the previous scars on his back and chest ache with a pain they haven’t felt in years. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the change in Jean’s posture, the white knuckle grip he has on the steering wheel. The change automatically makes Nathaniel regret opening his mouth, out of the three of Riko’s most coveted properties Jean is the one that gets the most of Riko’s abuse. 

The amount of times that Nathaniel has had to watch Jean get beaten by the others, clean up stitches and pools of sticky blood, tape together fingers and nurse concussions was more than what any normal person should. Riko had absolutely zero concern for anyone's well being other than his own, as evidenced by the punishments that Jean and even himself have gone through. Not to mention the senseless abuse The Ravens inflict on each other, and whatever is inflicted on one their partner gets the same. 

On more than one occasion he’d stood up to Riko for Jean, this way at least it’d distract Riko from Jean long enough for Jean to catch his breath. If he’d kept his mouth shut like everyone else then he’d be down a handful of scars, but he wouldn’t have been able to look Jean in the eyes again. 

“Don’t worry about it, we’re gonna be fine.” Jean shot him a look that said he didn’t believe him one bit, but Nathaniel knew that dwelling on what  _ could _ happen is only going to lead to mistakes. 

Luckily their drive from the airport to their hotel wasn’t long, a short twenty minute drive through a small part of Columbia. Nathaniel hadn’t been to many places before, usually only for travel games or small trips downtown in Charlestown; Columbia doesn’t look too different to him, the same kinds of buildings, same kinds of people. 

Jean pulls the car into the parking lot, and the two of them grab their bags and head inside. The check in process here is much easier and smoother than it was getting their rental car, and they get their room key in less than five minutes. 

Room 258 is down the hall and to the left once off of the elevator with beige colored walls, and blue and white patterned carpet. Two large windows, with sheer white curtains covering them, dark brown satin ones pushed off to either side took up the entire far wall. There were two double beds pressed against one wall, both of them with two night stands a piece. Across from the beds was a large flat screen TV on the wall, above a long desk with one chair, a menu and a phone. 

Nathaniel throws his bag onto the bed near the window, and immediately closes the black out satin curtains to create a darker room, as Jean flicks on the overhead light. They both take a minute, flopping down on their respective beds at the same time. 

It still takes Nathaniel for a loop when they stay in places with actual color, instead of the absence of color. The Ravens take their aesthetic to heart, as evidenced by their all black, matching vehicles and the clothes they wear, hell even now Jean and Nathaniel are both dressed in all black and even their rented vehicle is a sleek black color. Being in a room that’s so bright always ends up knocking something out of him. 

Five minutes later Nathaniel is up, searching through his duffle to pull out a clear plastic bag containing a few tubes of concealer and two makeup sponges. Bag in hand he walks into the bathroom to soak the two sponges and returns to the main room, to sit on the bed next to Jean. “Sit up.” 

The other male raises an eyebrow, but sits up anyway, turning to face Nathaniel. “What's that for?” Grey hues flit to the bag with the concealer and then to the makeup sponge in Nathaniel’s hand. 

“Our tattoos. We don’t actually know how much these guys know about Riko, and since this isn’t a formal visit it’s probably not a good idea to show up with them visible.” Grabbing one of the lighter shades, Nathaniel begins dabbing a little under Jean’s eye, and goes about blending it in with the sponge. It doesn't take long to cover the tattoo, switching between a few different shades to blend it in and covers it with some translucent powder. 

“I’ll get changed while you work on yours, then. It’s already getting late, and we need as much time as possible tonight to figure out a game plan.” Jean tosses Nathaniel his bag, and Nathaniel closes the bathroom door to work on himself. 

It doesn’t take him long to work on covering his own tattoo, a little less time than it did for Jean’s since he already knew what colors to use. By the time he’s finished covering himself up, he stares at himself in the mirror for a long moment. The face that’s looking back at him in the mirror is not his, but his fathers. Now that the tattoo is covered up the only person he sees in the mirror is Nathan Wesninski looking back at him. 

Nathaniel closes his eyes, wringing his hands against his stomach, trying to push the thoughts of his father from his mind. They might not have had the worst relationship, but it’s hard to not think of all the times his father beat him for being too loud, not sitting still enough, or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When he opens his eyes, his focus goes to the small contact lens box he’d brought with him, a pair of colored brown contacts. With practiced ease he slips the contacts in, hiding the bright blue eyes of his father. 

After throwing the container in the trash he turns back to his bag, and begins changing out of his clothes, trading his already black jeans for a tighter pair of black jeans, and a tight black shirt. The outfit is good for the type of club they’ll be at, but the only thing Nathaniel can think about when he looks back in the mirror is if anyone will be able to see the raised scarring on his chest. His eyes zoom in on the area, nitpicking the way it looks through the shirt as he moves in different directions. 

Jean knocks on the wall, letting him know he’s finished and Nathaniel stops looking at himself and instead opens the door into the room. When he walks out he almost stops short, but keeps his wits about himself when he sees Jean. He’s also in a pair of tighter black jeans, a black button up with a white grid pattern on it, sleeves rolled up halfway and buttoned up only to his mid chest. 

The visual knocks something right out of Nathaniel. 

Clearing his throat, Nathaniel slips past Jean to toe on his shoes. “Are you ready?” He doesn’t bother to look over in Jean’s direction, just grabs the leather jacket he’d worn earlier and his wallet and phone. 

They leave the room together, both sliding their room cards into their pockets and head toward their rented car. Jean drives again, putting the address to Eden’s Twilight, the club where Andrew works, into the cars GPS system and then takes them back onto the main road. The GPS says they’ll be there in twenty five minutes; a lot longer than Nathaniel was hoping for. Especially with Jean looking like  _ that _ . 

Nathaniel settles back into the seat, the radio still on low, and closes his eyes. They need to succeed tonight so they can come back again next week, and then return again to get the signature on a final contract. Riko made it clear that they had to sign Andrew, and if they don’t he’s going to look at it as a failure on Nathaniel and Jean’s part. While Nathaniel can take whatever abuse Riko will bring down at his or the other Ravens hand, he doesn’t want Jean to. He’s aware that Jean is Riko’s favorite punching bag, he doesn’t want to have to pile more reason to break another finger or whatever else Riko does to him. 

Being considered part of the ‘inner circle’ was both a blessing and a curse, Nathaniel always thought. While the inner circle didn’t get nearly as much abuse rained down on them, they did, however, have to watch it happen to others, and not say anything. Kevin was the only one of them that didn’t experience the same kinds of punishment as the rest, and for that at least Nathaniel was thankful. All Kevin had to do was keep his mouth shut, and let Nathaniel deal with Jean’s punishment. As far as Kevin and Jean, Nathaniel could have cared less what happened to the rest of them.

Jean finds them a parking garage, parks the car and slides the keys into his pocket after turning the car off. It’s quiet for a few moments, just the distant sound of people on the road, and cars driving over bolts. “Well, let’s get this started then.” 

Nathaniel nods, and they both get out of the car to head toward Eden’s Twilight. 

The line outside isn’t that long, they’re still close enough to the door that they can see the bouncer without much need to stretch around. With Nathaniel in front, Jean shuffles in behind him blocking him from the group of already drunk people that have started to file in behind them. The bouncer near the door, stands from his stool, and takes a look down the line, taking in each and every person; Nathaniel finds it a little unnerving, reminds him of when he was a child and Master Moriyama walked up and down the line of little league players, scrutinizing them under his careful eye. 

“You two.” The bouncer's voice calls down the line, pointing a finger in Nathaniel and Jean’s direction, his hand stretches out to beckon them over. 

Nathaniel reaches back and grabs hold of Jean’s wrist, tugging the both of them up to the beginning of the line, a neutral expression written on it. When they both reach the beginning the bouncer gives them both another once over, before holding out a stamp waiting for their hands. Nathaniel thrust out both their hands, finally letting go of Jean’s wrist.

“Have a good time.” The bouncer steps aside letting them walk through the entrance and into the club. Behind them they can hear the girls at the front of the line booing at either them or the bouncer, Nathaniel is’t quite sure, but he isn’t going to complain. 

The inside of Eden’s Twilight isn’t anything that either of them have seen before. Once walking in, the club opens out to a giant level of high tables and chairs, one large bar off to the right. There are three staircases that lead down into a large open area where bodies are currently dancing against each other to the DJs music. Off to the side from where the bar is located there’s a hallway that leads to another area of the club, a large open balcony overlooking the road. 

Jean grabs Nathaniel’s elbow, leading them through the throng of people gathering some with drinks already in their hands, some of them pressed against others and some of them already drunk. It takes longer to get through the people than expected, in their drunk haze people move in and out of their path holding them up a time or two. Nathaniel doesn’t mind, let’s himself be led through the masses, at least this way with Jean’s hand wrapped around his arm, he knows he won’t get lost. 

Sometimes being short has its disadvantages. 

Two empty seats at the bar open up just as they’re getting there, Nathaniel shoves himself into one of them and uses the grip Jean has on his arm to pull him into the other. Immediately Nathaniel is looking around to try and spot the people they’ve been sent here to look for. So far he spots two bartenders but neither of them are the cousin in question and he can’t even seem to find the twins. A sinking feeling worms it’s way into his gut, and he worries that they aren’t even here. 

In all of their digging none of them thought to find a work schedule for the club, which would have made things a hell of a lot easier. Then again he’s sure as shit that Riko thought about it and then decided not to because a failure meant he got to have some fun. All they’re going to have to go on right this minute is this female bartender, with her bright orange hair and enough piercings in her face to warrant a double take. 

Nathaniel waves her down, orders them both whiskey sodas, and slides their very convincing fake ids across the counter at her. She doesn’t even look at them long enough before nodding her head and walking away to make them. He watches her grab two cups, toss in one large ice cube, hit it with a shot of whatever whiskey was within reach and tops them off with some soda. When she slides them onto white napkins in front of them she leaves with a smile and a wink, and goes to serve someone else. 

“Do you really think that we’re going to be able to get enough information to get this kid to sign with us?” Jean asks, sliding the glass and napkin closer to him. Both his elbows rest against the bar-top as he glances over at Neil. “I mean what are we gonna be able to get on him in a couple weekends, we only have a small window.” 

“That is the idea.” Nathaniel brings the glass to his lips, letting the liquid coat his mouth before swallowing. “It’s no secret that we’re sort of being set up to fail, but we also can’t. So we better hope this kid is easy to get to know.” Another sip follows, and then he places it back on the bar-top, spinning the cup slowly between his fingers. “Or at least that it’s obvious what we can use against him.” 

The rest of the night is slow despite the fast pace of the music around them. Drunk people at the bar come and go, some get cut off and are bored enough to leave, some of them glance at a clock and realize it’s late, by the time Nathaniel check’s his phone is quarter to one. In the entire time they’d been there they haven’t laid eyes on their target. 

Nathaniel’s forehead is pressed to the bar, he’s on his third whiskey soda by now, about ready to give up for the night when he hears it, an angel, right on his shoulder. 

“Just because I’m here all the time working doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here getting fucked up, Roland.” 

A laugh, and the sound of glasses hitting a tray resound off the bar and straight to Nathaniel’s ears. “I’m just sayin’, man. Hey, you’re working tomorrow right, Andrew? ‘Cause these fucking kids can’t clean for shit.” 

There’s a long pause, Nathaniel can practically  _ feel _ his eyes on his body. He isn’t even looking over in his direction and he knows,  **knows** that his stare is  _ something else _ . 

“This one dead?” 

A smile slices its way onto Nathaniel's face, turning his boyish look into something much more sinister, something a little manic. He schools it,  **_almost_ ** , before sitting up until he’s only half leaning on the bar. He can  _ feel  _ the way Jean is vibrating next to him. “No, actually I’m  _ very _ much alive.” Nathaniel waits,  _ one _ ,  _ two _ ,  _ three _ and then he turns to look at Andrew. 

The picture they’d acquired does Andrew absolutely no justice at all. Even in the darker lights of the club he can tell just how bright the blonde hair on his head is, the sharp cut of his jaw, the deep pool in his hazel eyes. From what Nathaniel can see of his arms, he can tell he works out well enough, can tell he wouldn’t have a problem taking on anyone in this room despite his small stature. It takes Nathaniel seconds to figure this out. 

It takes Nathaniel seconds to figure that out but it takes Andrew two minutes of staring at him with an unreadable expression before he speaks. One word. 

“Interesting.” 

There isn’t time for another exchange, Andrew gives him one more look over before grabbing the tray and pushing his way through the crowd and away from the bar. 

Roland, the current bartender, clears the empty drinks in front of them all while giving Nathaniel an interesting look of his own. He doesn’t go to say anything in response to it though, instead just moves onto the next person, leaving Nathaniel and Jean alone. 

“I think tomorrow is going to be fun.” Nathaniel begins in French, pushing back in his chair, turning to look over at Jean with a smirk on his face. 

“Indeed it is.” Jean replies back in the same language, downing the rest of the drink, letting the cup really hit the bar in a cheer. 

“I think we’re done here for now.” The french rolls off easier with the added alcohol in his system, smooths out all the kinks it usually has from lack of use. Nathaniel pulls his wallet out and throws down a hundred dollar bill, which is far too much but Roland deserves it. 

Nathaniel gets out of his seat first, Jean follows close behind him, careful not to lose him as they make their way out of the club. As they make their way to the door he is all too aware of the intense gaze from a few tables over, the same stare that he’d received before. He fights, and loses, turning his head toward the table, raising a brow in Andrew’s direction, tongue licking over his teeth; time feels like it’s in slow motion. Intense hazel eyes meet false brown ones, catching on each other for only a moment, before Nathaniel let’s his father's smirk slip onto his face. 

Then it’s gone. 

Nathaniel breaks the contact, disappearing behind a group of people tossing back shots and he and Jean are back to the door. Neither of them say anything to each other as they walk back toward the parking garage they left the car in. There are people all around them, bringing their club party outside not bothering to take down the noise; but Nathaniel, he doesn’t hear any of it, the only sound in his ears is the Raven’s victory song. 

Jean makes quick work of driving them back to their hotel, probably pushing the speed limit but the both of them are vibrating with excitement for tomorrow that he doesn’t seem to care. 

The hotel comes into view quickly, the both of them step out of the car, shut the door and walk together to the door in sync, acutely aware of the strange looks the family checking in give them. Jean slides their room key in the elevator, waits for the ding and he and Nathaniel step inside and head toward their floor. Another quiet ride from the lobby and to their room, the both of them already in tactical mode. This time it’s Nathaniel that uses his key-card to let them in. 

While Jean goes into the bathroom to change out of his things, and wash the makeup from his face Nathaniel takes the chance to change in the room, tossing his clothes into a pile on the floor next to his shoes. Going through his bag Nathaniel tugs out his pajama pants and pulls them on before shoving a long sleeve shirt over his head. Once he’s changed he goes about folding his club clothes and putting them at the bottom of his bag, the clothes that he’d wear the next day find a home on the desk. 

Nathaniel runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh before his fingers begin typing a message out to Riko, letting him know they were able to find Andrew and were going to make heavy contact tomorrow night. His fingers hover over the send button, debating. Of course he’d be expecting an update, that’s just Riko, however, he’d also be wanting something more than what Nathaniel and Jean were able to give him. Riko doesn’t do anything short of perfect and that meant that he demanded the same out of everyone around him (  _ until that meant doing better than him  _ ).

He ends up adding another sentence, letting him know that Andrew hadn’t been working that night and that was why they didn’t get very far. Also, went ahead and let Riko know that they’d overheard that Andrew was indeed going to be working the following night. Nathaniel figured that’d be enough to satisfy him for the time being and pressed send, tossing the phone onto the bedside table. 

“Did you let Riko know or should I?” Jean asked, finally emerging from the bathroom, tattoo on full display and clad in comfortable looking pajamas. He neatly folds his dirty clothes and places them off to the side for now. 

“I already did. We’ll figure out a plan of attack over breakfast, hopefully they have something good downstairs in the morning.” Nathaniel drags the chair at the desk over to the door, turns the lock and positions the chair underneath the handle to prevent the door from opening up should someone manage to get in. He can feel Jean’s eyes on him as he does so. There isn’t much of a threat that someone would show up for them, but Nathaniel isn’t going to take a chance and he knows that it’ll allow Jean to sleep a little better. 

He can sense the thanks about to come from Jean’s mouth on his way to the bathroom, and holds up a hand. “Don’t” And then closes the bathroom door. 

The mirror has never been his friend, whenever he looks in it he sees Nathan Wesninski looking back at him. In the way he smiles, in his piercing blue eyes, in the ginger of his hair — no one would miss him, his characteristics stick out like a sore thumb. If it weren’t for his father’s connections to the Moriyama’s he wouldn’t even be here, he wouldn’t be considered part of the inner circle. He might have been sent here to protect the Lord should his father die, but he was still the closest Riko would ever get to the main family. So much of him is his father, and he  **_hates_ ** it. 

Nathaniel makes quick work of tossing the used contacts away after taking them out, and using the already damp, makeup covered face cloth to wash off his own makeup. When he’s finished the lights are already off in the room, Jean is probably already halfway to sleep by now. As quietly as he can he makes his way over to the empty bed and settles in. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a night and he needed all the sleep that he could get. 

Most of Saturday was spent relaxing in their hotel room. There wasn’t much that they could do about their search for information during the day since they hadn’t much other information about Andrew other than his place of work and a few other details. In addition they both felt wrong going on into Columbia to walk around, they’d never been able to do anything other than Exy, and this wasn’t any different. They were here on  _ business _ for the Ravens Riko.

They’d spent breakfast mulling over different options for the second go at gathering information tonight, though nearly every single one of their scenarios banked  _ heavily _ on an unknown variable and next to none of them were reliant on them. Nathaniel was  _ positive _ that Andrew’s comment last night meant far more than it did on the surface, he was so sure that he was betting his and Jean’s lives on it. It wasn’t so much just the single word response, but the way it almost felt as if his eye were finding all the cracks in Nathaniels’ exterior to break them down. 

Dangerous, considering their formal meeting wasn’t for another week or two  _ at least _ . If he’d so much as slip up going into this there was an even slimmer chance that he’d sign with them. If Nathaniel were being honest, he’d have tossed the application away the second it was handed to him — Andrew was good on paper, but someone with his past Edgar Allen was not going to be a good place for him. Maybe if they’d been lucky enough to dig their talons into him when he was much younger, but there’s far too much fight in him. Too much to break down like Jean did, too much to smarten up like Nathaniel did, and too much to freeze like Kevin did. 

Someone like Andrew would hold onto whatever semblance of himself he could and that’s not someone that Riko wants on his team. But sometimes,  _ most _ of the time, all he had eyes were for the talent and everything else would fall to their knees for him. After all, he’d sort of tamed Neil, what’s another wild animal, right?

They were eating their ordered dinner so they didn’t have to leave; Chinese food off their power revolution menu. The both of them were piled on Jean’s bed, their food spread out shared between them, bottles of water half open on the bedside tables, and both of their phones forgotten on the desk. This time dependent on eating as much as they could to cancel out a majority of the effects of the alcohol they’d consume later. 

At The Nest they were not allowed to ingest alcohol of any time, their intake was strictly monitored by not only their fellow Ravens, and each other but also the Master. This was a special pass considering where they were headed, but it also meant that neither of them really had any kind of tolerance, and  _ that _ could be dangerous too. 

Nathaniel stabs at the piece of shrimp that Jean was going for, managing to snag it before his pair did and pops the entire thing in his mouth. His lips form a smile around his food at the betrayed look on Jean’s face as he’s forced to stab at another piece. For the better part of an hour they tried to out stab pieces of meat and vegetables from beneath each other’s forks. Between the two of them they’d nearly devoured the entire two meals they’d ordered, just the water chestnuts and some rice were left over by the time they finished. 

Both of their tattoos were already covered up, Nathaniel took the time while they waited for their dinner to get it done. He’d been a lot more gentle than he probably needed to while covering up Jean’s, but that’s a conversation for a completely separate time in the world. When he covered his own, he slipped his contacts in as well to save some time. 

“It’s still weird to see you with brown eyes.” Jean gathers the remaining containers and tosses them into the brown paper bag they came in and gets up to toss them out. They’re with each other twenty-four seven, three hundred sixty-five days a year, he’d only even had to wear the contacts a handful of times in that time. Nathaniel supposes it’d be fairly weird to see Jean with any other color eyes than his gray ones.    


“Lucky for you just one more night, and I’ll be back to sending icy daggers through your heart with my blue eyes.” Nathaniel stretches his legs and arms out, like a cat waking up from a nap. He can feel the way his muscles move and his joints crack at the movement. Then he’s up, and heading over to his bag to get his clothes. 

They both change with their backs to each other, Nathaniel in tight black jeans, a deep black v-neck t-shirt and the same leather jacket he’d worn the night previous. Before turning around he toes into his black boots and checks that his wallet is on him. 

Jean’s in another pair of equally tight black jeans, and a floral patterned button up, rolled to his elbows, buttoned to his mid chest, Rolex on his wrist. A gift from Nathaniel last Christmas. One hand after another runs through his hair, displacing some of the strands. 

They both take a moment to look at each other, to take a deep breath together, to steal themselves for the night. 

Nathaniel can’t speak for Jean but the same feeling of excitement and pressure he gets before a game is starting to bubble up inside of him. 

Jean drives again, and chooses the same car garage as the last time. When they get to Eden’s Twilight the line is much shorter than it was the first time that they were there, but it also means they have to wait in line this time. It’s much earlier in the night, they’d decided to get there just as the nightlife was starting to unfurl. Thankfully, they only had to wait about fifteen minutes before they received their stamps and were walking back into the club. 

Saturday night was much like Friday, expect maybe more people. Nathaniel’s eyes followed down to the open dance floor below them, noting that it barely looked like it’d be able to hold anymore people. The floor they’re on looked much the same, a lot of the tables were filled up, bodies pressed into corners with hands unable to be seen. The one difference between Friday and Saturday was that Andrew was moving around behind the bar, in fact his twin brother and their cousin were also there. It was already going to be a better night than before.

Jean, grabs his hand and helps them the rest of the way through the groups of people, and over to the bar. There’s only one seat open in the area of the bar that the cousin, Nicky, was working so Jean leads Nathaniel into the chair, and stands close to his left side. It takes a little while before Nicky makes their way over to them, there’s a million watt smile on his face and a dish towel thrown over his right shoulder. 

“Can I get you guys anything?” Dark chocolate eyes flit between the both of them, the smile never fading from his face. 

Nathaniel doesn’t understand how this boy and the twins were even related, they look absolutely nothing alike. Family resemblance doesn’t need to be spot on, not everyone is like him and his father; a fucking spitting image, what a lucky guy Nathaniel is. 

“Gin and tonic for me, and a whiskey sour for him.” Jean’s smile is smooth as butter reaching for his id, and slipping into Neil’s pocket to produce his. He slides them across the bar for the bartender, Nicky checks them much more thoroughly than the bartender the night before did, and when he’s satisfied he hands them back. 

He slips away to begin on their drinks, and Jean takes the time to slip both of their licenses into his own pocket for the time being. The group to the left of them gets a little bigger, causing the person beside Jean to lean back toward him; the movement causes Jean to lean against Nathaniel. 

“There ya’ go.” Nicky comes back over with their drinks, repeating the same actions as the previous night's bartender by placing their drinks on little white napkins with the printed logo for Eden’s Twilight on them. 

They both lift their glasses, and toast each other before taking a sip, returning them to their respective napkins at the same time. 

“God that’s cute.” Nicky mumbles, one hand on his hip as he watches to two in front of him. “How long have you two been together?” 

Jean’s words die in his throat, a choked noise following the question. He and Nathaniel turn and look at each other, then back at the bartender and then back at each other. 

“Oh, uhm. We’re not.” Jean points between the two of them, a slight blush high on his cheeks. “Ya’know together.” 

Nathaniel’s own cheeks heat up at the question, they heat a little bit more when he notices the color that flushes Jean’s already pale face. Though they’d never been asked outright before, it’s very easy to see why someone that didn’t know them would think that thought. They’re always together, they’re always close, always in sync; while most people find it unnerving, it really isn’t a far stretch to assume. 

The color drains from Nicky’s face, clearly mortified with himself. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh  _ God _ , I am  **so** sorry, I didn’t. Oh, Nicky just  _ shut up _ .” The last bit is clearly meant to be toward himself. “I’m gonna….” Someone down the bar signals for a bartender; Nathaniel doesn’t think he’s ever seen relief return to someone so fast in his entire life. Without uttering another word Nicky rushes away. 

They are both silent for a while, Jean spins his glass around on the bar-top, Nathaniel leans back into Jean and taps his fingers on his thighs.  _ Oh, that’s probably not helping _ . “Dating? Us?” Nathaniel asks, a hint of laughter in his voice. There is no time for dating when you’re an Edgar Allen Raven, even less so when you’re Riko’s property. Your  _ only _ relationship is Exy. 

“God Riko would have a fit.” Jean is full on laughing when he responds, pushing his arm into Nathaniel’s side. With his other hand he runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head. “If it wasn’t a threat to both our lives, it might be nice to fuck with Riko for once.” 

Nathaniel wishes he’d have been able to record Jean saying that and keep it forever. Jean rarely ever says anything like that, whenever he does it gives Nathaniel this odd, proud feeling in his gut. 

They both knock back their drinks, the group beside them disperses which allows Jean to snag the chair to his left and then he flags Nicky down to get them each another drink. Their conversation is lite as to not appear suspicious to the people around them. Most of the people here appear to be regulars, and usually regulars aren’t too keen on outsiders; Nathaniel just hopes that they're too drunk to really notice. 

“There ya’ go. These ones are on me.” Nicky places their new glasses on two fresh napkins, and removes the empty two glasses putting them behind the counter. “For earlier, it wasn’t my place. I’m sorry, so let me get you two a drink.” 

Jean and Nathaniel toast Nicky with their drinks. 

“Oh Andrew! Hey I need more glasses over here when you get a chance!” Nicky calls out to the smaller blond walking behind him with a black bin filled with dirty cups. A grunt and some cuss words are returned in response, but Nicky doesn’t seem bothered because he just laughs and has the same smile he had earlier on his face. 

To the left, the two men that replaced the empty seats wave Nicky over for some drinks. Nathaniel can hear a couple voices, but he ignores them in favor or watching the rest of the bar, taking notice of whose around, who does what. A head of blond hair distracts him, and draws his attention from the opposite end of the bar, as he begins to unload a black bin full of clean glasses.  _ Bing _ —

Nathaniel notes the expression on this blond's face, it’s not Andrew but his twin brother Aaron. 

They might have only had two interactions, very brief ones, but Nathaniel would bet his Exy career on the fact that this was not Andrew. Someone with an intense gaze as Andrew had doesn’t hide that just because they’re doing menial work like stacking glasses. 

“Aw, come on now.” A man's voice sounds from the left of where Jean is sitting. “You gotta have a break coming up soon, sweet stuff.” 

The other blond, the one Nathaniel is here for, comes out from the double doors down at the start of the bar, carrying another bin with clean glasses, though he stays on the opposite end, stacking glasses there.

Nathaniel turns his body toward Jean, glass in his hand, half empty, and nods his head toward the end of the bar toward where Andrew was. He can tell by the uptick of an eyebrow that Jean isn’t convinced that he actually knows which one of the twins is which; of which he chooses to ignore in favor of watching Andrew from across the bar. 

Their bartender, Nicky, laughs as he prepares another drink, and says something that sounds like a very polite way to turn someone down, Nathaniel is too busy watching the haphazard way that Andrew stacks the glasses, seemingly not caring how chaotic his stacks are compared to what his twin is doing. 

“That’s fine, he’s not here now is he? Come on just a little kiss, I bet I can make you forget whatever your boyfriend's name is. Come on, baby.” The same man’s voice sounds, more slurred than it originally was. 

It happened so fast, one second the man is reaching for Nicky with his left hand, the next second he’s tripping over his feet into the bar, the third second Nicky makes a noise, the fourth second Andrew’s head of hair feet away from his cousin a fist already ready to go, in the fifth second a right elbow finds a home in Jean’s side causing him to flind, and in the sixth? In the sixth second Nathaniel has his hands in the front of the man’s shirt, ripping his drunk body away from the bar, Nicky and Jean. 

The man is clearly a foot taller than Nathaniel, much closer to Jean’s height but that doesn’t stop him. Nearly all of the Raven’s players are taller than him, this is child's play compared to what he deals with at Evermore Castle. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growls, using his muscle to now yank the man away from the bar stool. 

“What, what you’re with that guy, then huh? Oh you want a piece of him too, he’s a useless twink, so uptight with that,” 

Nathaniel doesn’t give him another second to speak, he pulls back with his right hand and punches the man right in the mouth, effectively shutting him up for the time being. The grip he has on the front of his shirt releases sending the man tumbling down to the floor. Truthfully Nathaniel didn’t care about Nicky, but the fact that this guy had laid a hand on Jean? Raven red was in his eyes, both hands curling into fists by his side as the man held his jaw on the floor. The blood was rushing so fast through his arteries that he could hear the  _ whooshing _ in his ears. 

The man on the floor doesn’t stay very long, his face contorts into something ugly and angry, forcing his way onto his feet, fists ready but arms a limp mess. He takes a swing at Nathaniel, one that’s easy for him to dodge, and then another. “You little shit.” His voice slurs as he steps forward crowding Nathaniel for a moment, but enough to land a punch to his jaw; there’s more force behind this one, and he can feel the way his lip and teeth connect. 

Another fist, but this one is from Nathaniel, putting enough force into it that when it connects with the guy's skull he can feel his knuckles crack; enough force to cause the guy to fall right to ground, limbs collapsing around him in a heap. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Someone grabs at the back of his leather jacket, yanking him hard enough he stumbles for a second. Nathaniel is about to turn his head toward the sound of the second voice but that half exposed skin of Jean’s arm is zooming by his head to uncurl the man's hand. Then Jean’s using his body weight to throw the guy onto the floor by his shirt, away from Nathaniel. 

“Are you stupid?” Jean asks in french, and tilts Nathaniel’s face up toward him, moving it from side to side to get a look at the split lip and the bruise that’s already starting to form. 

“Well yeah.” Nathaniel’s response is french and matter-of-fact.

“That’s enough, let’s go.” Another deep voice causes Jean and Nathaniel to look over to see two tall, muscular men dressed in all black with sunglasses on top of their heads. Nathaniel remembers them from the entrance, the two bouncers standing outside. One of them is forcing the two guys Jean and Nathaniel took down to stand up again, a tight grip on either of their biceps. 

“No, Zack wait!” Nicky’s voice cuts in the crowd around them, who had apparently gathered and gone quiet at the scene. “Not them, I don’t know who they are but if it weren’t for them well..” His voice trails off, like he didn’t want to relive something that had already happened. Whatever it was it was unspoken between them because the bouncer nodded, gave Jean and Nathaniel a once over and helped the other with the two guys. 

Nathaniel wipes at his lip, collecting the forming blood on his fingers. False brown eyes examine the amount, the feel, the look — this was not the first time he’d gotten into a fight and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last either — before wiping it on the back of his pants. Jean holds out one of the bar napkins to blot at the wound, shaking his head as he did so. He knows Jean thinks they fucked up their chances, but Nathaniel is fairly certain they got all the answers that they need. 

Andrew is staring at him with something behind his eyes that Nathaniel hasn’t ever seen before. It wasn’t the intense gaze he’d been under twice the night before, it was something so much more than that. A strange sort of gratefulness, mixed with a desire to take a sledge hammer to whatever perceived wall Nathaniel had built around himself. Something about the way the almost golden pools studied every single inch of his skin, focusing on the split in his lip, the way the blood made an appearance no matter how many times Jean tried to blot at it. 

“Thank you.” Jean turns his attention to Nicky’s voice first, Nathaniel breaking his stare away from Andrew second. “That was….just thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Jean says softly, as softly as he can to be heard over the music. Softly because he  _ understands _ not wanting something, and having it given to you anyway. 

“Guess I was right.” Andrew says to Nathaniel, holding out a plastic bag of ice, wrapped in a thin piece of cloth. He reaches for the bag, letting his grip on the bag linger in Andrew’s palm, eyebrow raised. “Interesting.” Is the only response he gives, before removing his own palm from the bag. 

“Free drinks on us.” Another bartender comes over, with two of what they’d been drinking earlier and placing them on top of the bar. “You helped one of us, there’s no discussion.” 

Nathaniel climbs back onto the barstool, holding the ice bag to his lip to bring down whatever swelling was going to take place.  _ When the hell did he go for the ice?  _

Jean slides back into the seat next to him, and downs half his drink, before turning all his attention to Nathaniel. “So stupid.” Comes mumbled in french equipped with a shake of his head. “You okay?” This time, he turns his attention to Nicky, who still appears to be a little shaken up from the encounter. 

Thankfully someone is still paying attention to their goal here. 

Nathaniel switches between drinking his drink and icing his jaw and lip. Bruises and cuts were nothing to Ravens, though Riko made it a point to keep it all below the neck where it was easily covered up. The press was constantly around them, especially Riko’s inner circle; he was no doubt going to get some kind of punishment for this nice little cut. All he could hope for was that figuring out what Andew’s weakness was was going to be enough to minimize it. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Nicky offers a smile in Jean’s direction. “Hey we’re off in like an hour, you should come hang out with us. Let us show you around.” Deep brown hues glance between the two twins who were standing off to the side, but still close enough to their cousin to keep an eye on him. Andrew appeared bored with the offer, but Aaron looked a little annoyed. 

“I really should be getting Rocky here back to the hotel.” Jean nods his head in Nathaniel’s direction, earning a laugh from Nicky and a glare from Nathaniel. “Let’s go, stupid.” 

“Ah, man.” Nicky frowns, leaning against the bar, looking between the two of them. “Come on, what do I gotta do to get you to change your mind?” 

Nathaniel tosses back the rest of his drink in one go, and discards the bag of ice along with it. He and Jean slide out of their chairs at the same time, straightening out their clothes. “We’ll be back.” The smirk that comes across Jean’s face is nothing short of cheeky. 

But all Nathaniel can manage is to keep his gaze focused on Andrew, their eyes meeting for the third time in two days. The same unreadable expression is behind the pools of gold and it grates at something in Nathaniel. He was going to figure out what was behind those eyes whether it killed him or not. 

The Ravens turn together in sync and leave the bar behind them. Ignoring the people around them, the pleading look Nicky sends to their backs, the way the bouncers by the door give them a nod. Neither of them speak on the walk to the car, or the drive home, not even on their way back to their room. Both of them change in silence, basking in the thrill of the game won. 

Nathaniel still drags the desk chair underneath the handle before turning the light off as he did the night before before getting into bed. The mattress feels good under his muscles, the beginnings of the headache blooming under his skull from the events of the night but he still takes the time to send a text to Riko before he allows himself to sleep. 

_ Got it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, hey, hey! this chapter was _so_ long, and took so much more time to get right than i thought it was going to. i went back and forth between breaking it into two separate chapters but decided to keep the weekends as one chapter. 
> 
> comments are appreciated but not expected! and if you want, feel free to yell at me over on my twitter : @kittsukii


	3. Chapter 3

Nathaniel’s fingers tap against his thigh, where it’s currently hanging over the arm of the chair he’s in. His other foot taps against the floor, leaning back over the opposite arm of the chair. Jean, on the other hand, is sitting there with both feet planted on the floor and arms folded over his stomach, facing forward. The two of them on display: Jean always following the rules, and Nathaniel always trying to show his defiance. 

It appears like Jean is about to say something, but he quickly closes his mouth as Riko and Kevin file into the room, taking their own seats on the couch across from them. The look on Riko’s face is unpleasant when he glances over at Nathaniel; Nathaniel doesn’t care. There is a smile etched into his face, even apparent upside down. He’s staring at a blank spot on the wall. 

None of them say anything. Kevin would never open his mouth first. Jean’s too afraid to open his mouth first. Riko and Nathaniel could spend hours challenging each other to give in first. Today Nathaniel is far too giddy with his discovery to bother with his usual acts of defiance. 

“It’s his family.” He says, not bothering to look up in Riko’s direction. Nathaniel drags the nails of both his hands over the fabric of his pants. “They’re his weakness.” 

Even without view of Riko’s face, Nathaniel can imagine the cogs starting to turn; maybe the corner of his mouth twitching at the thought of something so juvenile being a weakness; maybe even the grasp of a fist against his thigh. It's almost enough to make him sit up and see for himself. 

“Is that how your faces ended up that way?” Kevin hisses taking into account the bruises blooming on Nathaniel's cheek and Jean's jaw. Truthfully, Nathaniel had forgotten about the bruises, they hadn’t bothered him until now. “The Master is going to be furious — “

Riko must have stopped him because Kevin shut up almost as quickly as he’d blurted out the words. He can only imagine how much paler Jean's face has gotten since the mention of the master. 

“Yes and no,” Nathaniel brings his upper body up from over the arm of the chair, elbows pressed against it for a bit of leverage. “Some guy was going for the cousin and ended up throwing a drunk elbow into Jean. I lost my cool a bit.” He shrugs like that’s all he’d done. “They all thought I was trying to protect the cousin. The guy's friend got pissed off and Jean slugged him.”

He doesn’t bother to comment that they’ve all done press with (much) worse injuries than a couple of small bruises. They’ll be easily covered with some concealer. (T _ rying to keep a straight face with two cracked ribs and a healing knife wound somehow seems harder to deal with. _ ) 

There’s a long moment of silence where Nathaniel can tell that Riko is mulling over the information, again. He’s sure that there’s going to be some kind of lashing for ruining their ‘perfect faces’ but he can’t seem to care for the moment. He’ll be singing a different tune later, probably. 

“His brother and cousin are not good enough for us to offer them anything. What are we supposed to do with that?” Kevin finally breaks the silence, glancing between Riko and Nathaniel. If Nathaniel was a gambling man, he’d bet that Kevin is about two minutes from having a breakdown. 

There are two spots left open on Rikos self-proclaimed perfect court: their future goalie and their future dealer. Andrew Minyard, despite his infamous attitude, was a genius goalie. They’d watched games of his; spent hours debating whether his potential would outweigh the impassive attitude. In the end, Riko was certain he’d be able to break his attitude, he just needed his talent. 

“I was just tasked with finding his weakness,” Nathaniel shrugs, removing one of his hands from behind him to wave off Kevin. “Whatever Riko decides to do with said information is not my problem.” 

“We know he’s nearly killed a few people previously who’ve said something to his cousin. This weekend just reinforced what we already knew. Someone like that isn’t going to suddenly change,” Jean adds. “I’m sure there’s something we can do with that to get him to sign.” He doesn’t sound nearly as nervous as he’d appeared earlier; probably figures Riko doesn’t mind as much about the small scuffle. 

The term  _ ‘we’  _ from any of them is hilarious considering that, if anything, it’ll either be Nathaniel getting his hands dirty  _ again _ or hired hits. 

“I have some ideas,” Riko’s face is not uncommonly (unless angry) unreadable as he speaks. Thankfully what they were able to confirm will help them. Riko will get his perfect goalie. 

Nathaniel hums, head tilting further back to glance at the large black-on-black wall clock, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Dinner, anyone? I’m starving.” With that he finally removes himself from the chair, smoothing out his shirt. He glances at Jean. 

Jean doesn’t move, looking between Riko and Nathaniel, trying to gauge whether their conversation is actually over, or if there’s about to be a scene. Riko’s eyes are trained on Nathaniel's form. Something unpleasant is beginning to grow on his face. 

“Yeah, I could go for dinner,” Kevin decides, glancing over at Riko, questioning. Whatever look was on his face is gone now; he gets to his feet at Kevin’s look. “Perfect, I’ll make quinoa bowls.” 

Nathaniel groans, falling into step with Jean once Riko and Kevin pass by them. “Kevin, quinoa is  _ not _ a food!” Riko is the one that laughs, which is both an unnerving feeling and a pleasant one. He decides to push it from his memory for now. They have a long week ahead of them, gearing up for their final game of the year and school finals. 

The week is, as expected, a nightmare. As a rule the Ravens usually spent all of their spare time on Exy while still maintaining a solid eight-hour sleep schedule. Nathaniel feels like he’s gotten a solid four hours each night; like every bone in his body is on the verge of breaking and every time he moves a muscle he thinks he’s going to tear it. 

The day after returning he and Jean found themselves on the receiving end of a few teammates’ racquets, undoubtedly for getting into the fight at Eden’s during the weekend. Clearly Riko isn’t as thankful as he’d originally come across. Really, Nathaniel should have known. 

Thursday was no different than the rest of the week had been, they worked their hardest during practice to get ready for their championship game next Friday. It was Edgar Allen versus Penn State for the Spring Finals, and like every year the Ravens would rather die than lose a game. It felt like for every attempt on goal that Nathaniel blocked there were twenty more lined up before he’d caught his breath. 

Today is almost more grueling than usual. Every offensive player is lining up to attempt getting past the back liners (mainly Jean and Nathaniel). The amount of shots they have prevented from getting near the goal is dangerously close to triple digits when The Master signals for the end of practice. 

“I’m pretty sure I can’t feel my arms.” Jean comments, tossing his helmet into his locker once they reach the locker room. 

“I’m sorry. Nathaniel can’t make it to the phone right now, his soul has left his body.” Nathaniel replies, doing the same with his own helmet. Though he must agree with Jean, he isn’t sure that he can feel his arms. They sort of feel like there aren’t any bones in there. 

Jean laughs, which in turn makes Nathaniel laugh, and the two of them go about getting out of their gear and practice jerseys. Both boys take the coldest showers possible to soothe their aching muscles and bones. They manage to finish at around the same time, changing back into their clothes before tossing their jerseys in the large laundry basket. 

“Nathaniel, Jean.” Riko’s leaning on a set of lockers, both arms crossed over his chest. Kevin’s sitting on the bench in front of him, hands pressed into his thighs. 

“Hmm?” 

“One more weekend. See if there’s anything else.” The look he gives Nathaniel says,  _ I don’t want to get anyone’s hands too dirty for this one. _

“Sure thing.” Nathaniel nods, hands slipping into the pockets of his pants. “I’d love to continue this conversation but Jean and I really must be heading to bed now. Y’know, eight hours and all.” 

Riko narrows his eyes at him but otherwise, let’s them go passed. As they leave Nathaniel can vaguely hear Kevin asking Riko something but, as quickly as it comes, it goes. 

Right now it’s not Nathaniel's concern. The only thing he can focus on is getting back to his room and getting to bed. Whatever happens to Kevin, he’ll know soon enough. 

The trip to Colombia is just as short and uncomfortable as the last. This time Nathaniel had been seated in between an elderly man and a young woman who smelt like a seafood sandwich. From there, he could see Jean was stuck in the window seat next to a screaming child and someone Nathaniel hoped was the child’s relative and not a kidnapper. It’s still up for debate which of them had it worse. Thankfully, the car rental went much smoother the second time than it had the first. 

They’d gotten there later, however, and decided to go right from the airport to Eden’s. 

The car park isn’t as crowded as they’d thought it’d be, so it’s easy for them to grab a parking space. Jean huffs out a breath, tossing his black jacket into the backseat and allowing his ridiculous black-on-white leaf print, short-sleeved, silk button-up to see the light of day. Nathaniel hates it because Jean somehow makes it look good. He, on the other hand, is decked out in his usual; black pants and black bomber jacket — but with a wine-red, fitted tee — Go Ravens. 

Nathaniel reaches out and grabs Jean's arm, stopping him from crossing the street. Intense, blue eyes search the others face, inspecting the spot just under his left eye; making certain that the makeup is flawlessly set. Face tattoos aren’t always known to be friendly, and they really didn’t want to blow this. Most people who play Exy are aware of Riko’s need to be number one and more are aware of his Perfect Court. “Good.” He lets go of Jean’s arm and heads off toward the doors, not waiting for Jean to follow. 

It takes them longer to get into Eden’s tonight, due to the hour, and if they’d expected it was going to be busy from the outside, they are not prepared for what it is like inside. Compared to tonight, the last time they were here was nothing. There are no tables open, the bar is packed body to body; looking down at the dancefloor it’s hard to tell if there’s even room for anyone else. The lights are both somehow less and more at the same time; the music so much louder than before, Nathaniel isn’t sure he can even hear himself think. 

He leads Jean through the bodies, acutely aware of the hold Jean has on his hand, as to not lose him. Truthfully, he doesn’t blame him, Nathaniel is a whole five foot three inches of lean muscle, which does nothing to help them if he gets lost in a crowd. Not only would it be bad for their mental health to be separated, but for anyone in the way of them trying to reunite. Nathaniel’s train of thought is split between the feeling of Jean’s hand and trying to get through the crowd to the bar, to search for their targets. So, when his free arm gets grabbed, he nearly loses it. 

Only Jean tugging him back hard keeps him from hauling back his free arm and decking someone in the face. There’s a fear he didn’t know he had running through his veins. “It’s not him,” Jean says in French, directly into Nathaniel’s ear. “It’s not him.” 

“Hey!” Nicky is loud, or he’s trying to be, over the music. He lets go of Nathaniel’s arm and smiles between the two of them. “I thought you were kidding when you said you’d be back! Sorry for grabbing you, I tried calling but — ” Nicky gestures vaguely around them as if to signify the music coming from the speakers. 

Jean laughs, removing his hand from Nathaniel’s and to the middle of his back, pressing his fingers in forcefully. The pressure is a grounding force, keeping him here at Eden’s with Jean instead of shooting off into the universe, fighting a terrifying feeling and a burning grip on his arm. Slowly he can feel his pulse start to slow down, so instead of hearing his blood rushing in his ears all he can hear is the music around them. 

“Come join us, let me buy you a drink for last week.” Nicky smiles, and this time he turns toward the table where Andrew and Aaron are seated, a nod of his head in their direction. When Nicky heads back to the table, Jean pushes at Nathaniel’s back to get his feet to move. 

Nathaniel pulls himself back, and slides himself in between where Andrew and Nicky are sitting on two of the stools; Jean stands between Nicky and Aaron, an easy smile on his face. It hits Nathaniel then how different Jean is outside of The Nest. How his smile seems to slide onto his face; how easily he exists without Riko breathing down his neck. The observation makes him feel a little helpless because the path they’re on means that they’ll never be rid of Riko. 

Nicky hands each of them a shot before taking one for himself. “To my two new saviors — “ He stops, glancing between said two.

“Jean, Nathaniel.” He watches as Jean points at himself and Nathaniel, holding the shot glass in his hands. 

“To Jean and Nathaniel!” Nicky announces loudly to the table, and the five of them toss back their shots. 

Nathaniel enjoys the slight burn as it runs down his throat. In their contracts with Edgar Allen there is a strict no tolerance for alcohol clause. It’s bad enough that they’re drinking but now they’re drinking from glasses they didn’t witness being poured. He imagines the many, many ways this could go wrong for them tonight. 

“Where the hell are you two from?” Aaron asks, putting his shot glass on the table a bit harder than anyone needs to. There’s something in his face, another question maybe? 

It’s now that Nathaniel realizes it’s probably suspicion. Two random strangers come into the bar they work at and just happen upon the three of them, then just happen to beat up the two guys who were hitting on their cousin. Being naturally cautious of the people around him, Nathaniel can see why there is concern in Aaron’s voice. 

“We’re from Virginia; traveling the US during the summer before school starts up.” Nathaniel offers, cradling his jaw in the hand now resting on the table, a cool smile tacked onto the end, “Just can’t keep away from Columbia, I guess.” 

“Well, lucky for us then.” Nicky beams, leaning forward on the table with his arms. “We get a fair number of people in and out of here, but it’s mostly just people from around here. Which is all well and good, but it’s nice to see a new face every now and then.” His gaze flits from Nathaniel to Jean quickly and then to each of his cousins. 

Andrew reaches across the table, the first movement he’s made since they’ve sat down, and grabs the now empty tray of shots. He doesn’t spare a single glance for any of them as he hops off of his seat, tray held in one hand but he does stop right next to Nathaniel to utter two words before heading to the bar, “Let’s go.” 

Nathaniel shrugs at the rest of the table, mostly for Jean, and heads off after Andrew without question. He’s not worried. Nathan Wesninski might have been an abusive father, who’d spent more time yelling at his son than asking how his day was, but if it weren’t for him and Lola he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Whether he has a knife or not, Nathaniel can, and will, take on Andrew Minyard in a fight if he has to. 

It doesn’t take long to find him, for someone so short Andrew does take up a lot of space. Nathaniel slips into the spot between Andrew and the chair beside him, close enough to smell whatever aftershave he uses. It smells delicious. Nathaniel watches as Andrew waves down the bartender for another tray of drinks; he’s quiet, face stuck in this neutral, bored expression. He gives himself a few moments more of careful observation. 

“Come here often?” Nathaniel askes, propping an elbow upon the bartop. 

The look Andrew gives him would have made any normal man shake right down to his boots; for eyes with such a warmth to them, the daggers they throw are surprisingly cold. It doesn’t deter Nathaniel, however. He just keeps that easy smile on his face, waiting for an answer. “Are you serious right now?” Those warm eyes roll in his head, looking anywhere but at Nathaniel. 

“Aha! I did get you talking though.” He has to force himself to keep his smile neutral, this bar is no place for a real smile like his. Truth be told, Nathaniel doesn’t think there is ever a place for a smile like his...like his father’s, but those thoughts are the thoughts for his pillow, late at night, after Jean’s fallen asleep. 

The bartender still hasn’t come back with their tray of drinks, and Andrew looks like he’s about ready to hop over the bar and pour them himself. He’s probably really regretting bringing Nathaniel along with him, though there must be a reason he has. He doubts he’d drag a stranger along with him to a bar without one. 

“So, what kind of pick-up lines would you use, hm?” 

Nathaniel is not blind, and unlike some others at The Nest, he’s very much in tune with what he  _ wants  _ and what he  _ likes _ . It just so happens that his eyes can see how attractive Andrew is; he has a nice set to his jaw, sharp as the daggers he’d thrown earlier, his hair looks soft as a fleece blanket, and his eyes were warm enough to swallow him whole. Though, this line of questioning wasn’t entirely necessary to the reason that Riko had sent him here, he sure as hell is going to use this information for him. 

The no relationship clause could get fucked.

The look Andrew gives him is a long, hard one. One that Nathaniel can’t quite figure out, but he doesn’t give up. He keeps the same easy smile, the same interested eyes. It isn’t until the bartender is back with the tray of drinks that Andrew says anything. For a second he thinks he’s talking to the bartender but he isn’t, “I just met you, and I can’t stand you, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you right now.”

“Well, if you want to know, you’d have picked me up,” Nathaniel returns, once he’s figured out that Andrew is talking to him. Though the bartender does sound like he’s choking on something, and Andrew shoots him another look that Nathaniel can’t quite pick apart. 

Andrew rolls his eyes, before picking up the tray and slipping off the chair, Nathaniel hot on his heels. The blond makes his way through the crowd like he had been made for parting the seas, moving around the people in the crowd without walking into anyone, and without spilling a drop. It makes something new curl in Nathaniel’s gut. ( _ How could someone who plays like he does move like this? _ ) 

“Maybe you already did.” He adds, close enough to Andrew’s ear that he’s sure he’ll be able to hear him over the music. If it affected him in any way he doesn’t show it, which doesn’t surprise Nathaniel at all. At least, judging by the pick-up line, he’s somewhat into men. It gives Nathaniel a little bit of hope. 

Andrew and Nathaniel slide back into their chairs. Aaron, Nicky and Jean are already onto a conversation about where they’re heading next. Andrew passes around the shots, keeping a majority of them for himself on the tray. 

“Pennsylvania, huh? You’re going to have to tell us all about it the next time you come back,” Nicky smiles at Jean, taking the shot glass that Andrew just passed him. “Can’t imagine what there is to see there, though.” 

“The Liberty Bell,” Jean says. 

“The Liberty Bell?” Nicky questions, eyebrow-raising in a second question. 

“God, you’re a fucking nerd.” Aaron downs his shot. 

Nathaniel can’t help but snicker at the comment. Oh, how Kevin would  _ fight  _ on that one, insisting that being interested in history didn’t make one a nerd. He enjoys how Jean never technically lies to them; they would be heading to Pennsylvania to compete against Penn State for the Exy Finals and they would be making a pit stop at the Liberty Bell.  _ Clever _ , he’ll have to remember to tell him later tonight. 

“I’m going dancing.” Aaron announces, already sliding off his chair.

Nicky goes to follow him but stops and looks between Jean and Nathaniel. “You guys coming?” 

Nathaniel answers for Jean, sending him an amused look, “Jean loves dancing, he’ll go with you.” The look Jean gives him is incredulous, betrayed. “My footwork is so bad, I’ll just step on everyone’s feet and fall over.” It seems to convince Nicky, though, because he’s pulling on Jean’s arm to get him out of the chair. Jean takes both his shot and the one Nicky left and downs them before going off with him. He does wish he’d be able to see this dancing go down, but the three of them head down the stairs to the dancefloor below, disappearing from sight. 

Andrew slides a shot in Nathaniel’s direction after they’ve left. He takes it and tosses it back at the same time Andrew tosses back his own. Whatever it is it has an unpleasant taste and seems to burn every one of his taste buds. If he isn’t able to taste the hashbrowns at breakfast in the morning he is going to be really pissed. It’s the second-best thing about these trips. With the tip of his index finger, Nathaniel slides the shot glass back across the small distance between them. 

“Tell me what pick-up lines work on you, hm?” The face that Riko would be making if he knew what kind of stunts Nathaniel is pulling right now, is the exact reason that Nathaniel keeps on this line of questioning. For added effect, he leans back in his seat, propping one foot on one of the bars of the chair, the other hanging loosely off it.

As much as Nathaniel tries to push his limits with Riko, he rarely ever does with The Master. Getting on Riko’s bad side is one thing, he can fight back against him, but getting on The Master’s bad side is different. Not even his father could save him from that, not like he would anyway. That bastard. The relationship clause isn’t in there because Riko asked for it, it is in their contracts because anything other than Exy is a distraction. If they were able to attend Edgar Allen and never take a single class, the entire Exy team would. Class he’d have to deal with, anything else was simply out of the question. 

The only reason any of them had lost their virginity was because the Raven’s members coming in from other schools already had and Riko thought they should too. If it weren’t for that they’d be virgins until the day they graduated from college. Even then, the only reason it was approved was so they weren’t distracted by it later. 

“Why would I tell you?” Andrew’s voice breaks through his cloud of thoughts, eyebrow raised in question, but otherwise, his expression is schooled. “That takes all the fun away.” 

“Somehow I don’t think you find many things fun.” Nathaniel reaches for another shot, ignores Andrew’s hand that bats him away, and steals one from the farther side of the tray. 

Andrew snorts. “Oh? What gave it away?” 

Nathaniel takes the bait without even thinking about it. “Well, it certainly wasn’t your charming personality” 

The look that Andrew gives him is again unfamiliar, unreadable; something that Nathaniel can already tell is so distinctly Andrew. It twists something in his gut, causing a not-quite painful but not-quite pleasant feeling. Another thing that he’s fairly certain only Andrew can pull from people. 

**Interesting.**

The rest of their time is spent in silence, each of them taking in their opponent in their own ways. Andrew clears the rest of the shots one by one, taking some time in between; Nathaniel assumes that it’s to let the shot hit. What’s he know? Recently is the first time he’s touched alcohol other than when he was eight and his father gave him vodka for the first time. (That hadn’t gone over well, at all). 

Sometime later, when Nathaniel is feeling the effects of the shots he’s taken, the other three come back. Nicky laughing, holding onto Jean for support — who looks unaffected, Nathaniel could kill him — and Aaron who looks a little less miserable than he did earlier. “He’s a horrible dancer.” Nicky announces as Jean assists him in the chair. 

“Terrible. I just told you I like dancing, not that I’m good at it,” Jean laughs but doesn’t sit down in the chair, either assuming Nicky will fall out of his or as a hint to Nathaniel that he’d like to leave. 

Nathaniel sends Jean his own look, one that says,  _ I’d like to leave but I drank too much and I don’t know that I can walk straight _ . Then adds one that says,  _ Please don’t make me look uncool _ because Andrew is right there, and for some reason, he doesn’t want to look stupid. 

The look Jean gives him back says he’s going to make him look as uncool as he can. 

“Well, tonight was fun, but I think I have to get Nathaniel over there to bed.” Jean slips around Nicky’s chair with far too much grace for someone who's over six feet tall. “We’ve got early morning plans, and it seems he’s had too much to drink already. He's a lightweight.”

Nathaniel hasn’t ever thought of killing Jean before, but right now he’s imaging many ways to carve him open. His face must say so or say something because Andrew snorts. Or was that Aaron? He’s not paying attention, just shuffling himself off the chair to prove a point. 

“Aw, that’s too bad. Will you guys be back tomorrow? I won’t be able to show you how to dance but I can slip you guys a free drink.” Nicky's smile is warm when he looks at the two of them, Nathaniel almost feels bad remembering the real reason that they’re here. 

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Jean promises, both hands resting on Nathaniel's shoulders. Whether to help steady him or keep him on a leash, he isn’t sure. His eyes narrow, lips pursing and nose scrunching in disgust that this man is his best friend. 

“I’ll remember to mix Nathaniel's drinks lite.” The look Nicky gives him solidifies his decision to gut Jean in the bathroom of their hotel room. 

With both hands still on his shoulders, Jean leads Nathaniel out of the club, and back into the cool night air of Columbia. There are fewer people outside now, but enough to indicate that the night is still in full swing. Nathaniel is quiet the entire time, pouting; arms crossed and as far away from Jean as he can get (which isn’t fair because he keeps walking into him by accident).

“That’s for making me dance, you little shit,” Jean finally says, as they approach the car. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Jean is a Raven with a mean streak too. 

Once he remembers, Nathaniel's pout turns into a smirk. “Touché.” 

The rest of the night is quiet. They drive back to the hotel without incident and make it to their rooms to undress without a problem. Nathaniel props the chair under the locked door and draws the curtains closed to block out the outside lights. It’s one of his favorite things about The Nest, the lack of windows makes it easy for him to sleep. Both of them are too tired to shower tonight. They flop into bed and try to remember to ask for clean sheets in the morning. 

They bid each other goodnight, and end up sleeping well into the next day. Ten thirty, to be exact. When he realizes the time Nathaniel can’t even remember the last time that he slept this long. There are ten missed text messages and two missed calls from Riko on his phone, which he deals with immediately in a brief retelling of the night before. Nothing new. 

Since they’ve already missed the free breakfast from the hotel, both of them take showers and order something to the room for their lunch. While they eat they work on last-minute study guides with Kevin and Riko over the phone, and when they’re done they head to the fitness center at the hotel to work out. After that, they spend most of their time going over defense strategies for the Penn State game, and the stats of the strikers they’ll be watching. 

Dinner is take-out again and while they wait for it to be delivered, Nathaniel works on covering both of their tattoos. They got Indian food this time, something they usually don’t get to have, so they enjoy it as best they can before getting dressed and heading to the car. They’re both in black pants, and patterned button-ups; Nathaniel’s black and white stripes and Jean’s a black and red floral print. Thankfully, Jean has a sense of style or Nathaniel would be wearing black cotton tees the entire time. 

Eden’s is packed when they finally make it through the doors, and they make their way as carefully as possible to the bar. Jean finds them two seats in the middle, shooting a smile to Nicky when he sees them sit down. 

“First ones on the house.” Nicky yells over the music, placing two shot glasses in front of them and pouring in some clear liquid, that Nathaniel assumes is vodka. 

Jean and Nathaniel grab the shots, give a toast to Nicky, and toss them back at the same time. When they’re finished Nicky grabs them and places them a large plastic box with other empty glasses. 

“Gives us something good,” Jean tells Nicky. 

Nathaniel watches the devilish smile that grows on Nicky's face, and for the first time since meeting them, he understands how he’s related to the twins. 

He goes about mixing them two separate drinks with liqueurs that Nathaniel doesn’t ever think he’s heard of before. One of them is a dark brown color that makes him shiver in his seat, while the other one is a bright, pinky-orange mixture. “A hanky-panky for you,” Nicky places the brown drink in front of Jean, and the pinky-orange one in front of him. “And a Sex on the Beach for you.” 

Nicky laughs at the blush dusting both of their cheeks, before returning to work down the other end of the bar. 

The minute that Nicky leaves them Nathaniel is looking around the back of the bar for the blond in question. Fingers tap against the glass in front of him as he catalogues the faces of the people working tonight. So far he doesn’t see the twins, which dampens his mood considerably. He takes a sip of the drink made for him. Then another. 

“This isn’t half bad.” 

“Slow down there, tiger. Don’t wanna get drunk again,” Jean offers, taking a sip of his own drink. “There’s one of them.” 

Nathaniel turns to look, taking in the appearance of the blond busboy, from his head to his toes. “Andrew.” 

“How the hell can you tell?” Jean looks at him skeptically. 

“Aaron doesn’t wear armbands. Every time we’ve seen them Andrew has had those black armbands.” At least he can thank his father for his keen eye if nothing else. 

Nathaniel runs through the possible ways to flag down Andrew without being obvious. After all, this is still his place of work. Plus, from what he’s learned of Andrew, he seriously doubts that, even if he calls him over in a calm manner, he’d listen. Unfortunately, his drink is too full and too tall to toss back for an empty cup, and he knows Jean isn’t about to down his glass for him. 

So, logically, the only thing for Nathaniel to do is drink Jean’s beverage.

It burns as it goes down his throat, completely different liquor than any other he’s had to drink here. His face scrunches up at the burn, but he slams the cup down on the bar top as soon as he’s finished. The look Jean gives him is exhausted; a warning, like he knows exactly what Nathaniel has planned. He decides that Jean probably does. He’s still going to do it. 

The noise does pull Andrew’s attention, his eyes locking onto Nathaniel and then the empty glass on the tabletop. Even from over here, Nathaniel can tell he lets out a long, annoyed sigh. It does little to still the feeling growing in his gut. 

In the same second that Andrew reaches for the empty glass, Nathaniel leans one arm on the bar, a smirk on his face, amusement in his eyes. “We’re not socks, but we’d make a great pair.” 

Andrew just stares at him, long and hard. Hard enough that Nathaniel swears it pushes him back in his seat. “You’re exhausting,” it’s said in almost exact opposition of what the words imply. 

Nathaniel's smile breaks onto his face. His false, rehearsed one, of course. His ‘ _ media smile _ ’ as Riko calls it. 

When Andrew turns to leave he spares two seconds to glance at the clock nestled between the two sides of long shelves filled with liquor. Then he’s gone, down a small hallway with his half-filled box of dirty glasses. 

“We’re not socks, but we’d make a great pair? Must’ve thought  _ real _ hard on that one.” Jean tries to bite back the laugh that’s threatening to spill out of him. He reaches for the full glass of Nathaniel's drink and slides it in front of him. 

“Shut up.” The tips of Nathaniel's ears turn a shade of pink, but his eyes narrow in Jean’s direction. It’s not like he’s had any experience with flirting; their entire lives are Exy. Even if he decided to flirt with someone, no one on the team would even go for it, and god forbid they talk to anyone else at the school. 

Jean was right though. The pickup line he’d used was lame, with little effort. All he’d done was type ‘pick up lines’ into Google and chose the one that sucked the least. Thankfully, they had enough to try and get Andrew to sign because if they didn’t and he’d just ruined it? He doesn’t want to think about that. 

Apparently, there is  _ some _ luck on his side because Andrew’s here, snapping in front of his face for his attention. There are no verbal cues, but he does jerk his head in the direction of that dark hallway, and only waits until Nathaniel is out of his seat before heading off in that direction. Considering the number of people that accumulate near the bar, it feels like there’s no one to get through; as soon as Andrew is coming everyone just steps out of the way. That’s interesting, but Nathaniel is thankful for it because he’s not tall like Jean and he can only imagine how easy it’d be to lose Andrew in the crowd. 

A waitress gives him an odd look, eyebrow raised as he walks down the hallway he now assumes leads to the kitchens because of the large double doors at the end and the amount of people going in and out. Andrew takes a turn down a smaller hallway, a door leading outside at the end. There’s a small table with a potted plant on it and two shot glasses. Odd place for a potted plant. An even odder place for two full shot glasses. They stop at the end of the hall, Andrew’s back pressed to one wall and Nathaniel’s back pressed to the other. Both of Andrew’s hands are in his pockets. Nathaniel can tell he’s running his fingers over something by the movement of them (and okay, he shouldn’t be staring at Andrew’s pockets but, well, too late). 

“Took you all night to think of a stupid pick-up line like that?” Andrew finally breaks the silence. His hands come out of his pockets, a glistening package the size of an individual soup cracker packet dangling between two fingers. Also seems like an odd place to have soup crackers, so Nathaniel figures that at least the packet and the shots were placed here intentionally. 

“It got you and I alone, didn’t it?” There’s a smug look on his face now, the same one he gives to Riko when Kevin shows him up by accident at practice or in a game. It also usually gets him a nice racquet to the ribs, or across the thighs. 

Blue hues watch Andrew as he carefully tears open the package, and empties the contents into just one of the shot glasses, giving it a little swirl with just the motion of his hand once he’s picked it up. The powder-free shot is also collected but is not offered to Nathaniel when Andrew finally stands straight again. He takes one step in his direction and then offers the powdered shot to him with the raise of a brow; a question, not a demand. This throws him off a bit.

“Ah, what? Not joining the fun?” He asks, eyes flitting from Andrew’s face to the drink and back. “Makes sense, I guess. It’d be pretty unprofessional to do drugs on the clock, huh?”  _ This is an extremely bad idea _ , he thinks, as he tries to take the shot glass from Andrew’s hands but he doesn’t let go. The look he gives now is another question. Nathaniel doesn’t have time to deal with it. “Just hand it over.” 

Andrew releases his hold on the glass, raising his own in small cheers before tossing it back. 

Nathaniel does the same, the shot not tasting any different than what he assumes the liquor inside is supposed to taste like. Nothing feels different. He returns the shot glass to Andrew who places them back on the small table, with the potted plant. 

“You really are an idiot. Taking drugs from a stranger?” 

“I like to live on the edge.” 

“Clearly.”

It feels like a win right now, getting Andrew to talk. This is the most he’s heard him speak in all three times they’d run into each other. He finds he wouldn’t mind listening to him talk a little more. 

“What’re you really doing here?”

“You. Er, I’m here for you. Not doing you, though, I wouldn’t mind doing that either.” 

Andrew’s expression begins to morph into something different, and suddenly Nathaniel isn’t sure whether it’s actually Andrew’s face or the sudden rush he’s feeling. It’s like his entire body is buzzing. His blood is rushing through his veins in the same way it does after they win a game; it almost feels like his heart is going to pound right out of his chest. There’s a dizzy feeling in his head like he’s held his breath too long and his brain is deprived of oxygen but in the best kind of way. The rise in his blood pressure is causing his skin and palms to sweat. 

“Bit forward of you.” Andrew hasn’t taken another step closer to him, which disappoints him. Tonight was intended to be about his very weird, and very sudden attraction to Andrew. “Just another tally added to the list of reasons why you’re stupid.”

“Not sure how many more times we’ll be back here. So, might as well shoot my shot.”

At that, Nathaniel can see something switch in Andrew’s eyes, like a light bulb turning on. Suddenly those hazel-golds are darker than they were a moment ago, but more — more than they had been all of the night before. He takes a step toward Nathaniel, leaving only one more step of space between them. He can almost taste how close they could be. By his sides, his hands itch to reach out and touch him, to tug him the extra step forward so he can know what his body feels like pressed against his. 

As if reading Nathaniel’s mind, Andrew steps forward to close that last bit of space between them. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” 

It comes out so fast he barely has time to think about what the question could mean, nevermind why he’s agreeing to something so easily. In fact, he really can’t even begin to imagine why he’d agree to anything that Andrew offered. He knows better, he was raised better. Nathaniel is the one who is supposed to offer up drugs to strangers, to get the truth out of them, to lure them into comfort and then slice their throats. He hasn’t ever been on the other side of that; realizes a beat too late that if Andrew wanted, he could bleed him outright in this hallway and no one would even know. 

But there’s no room to change his answer and the next thing he knows Andrew’s got both of his hands held above his head, grip tight where it’s holding his wrists against the wall. The second he feels the hard line of Andrew against him, it knocks the breath out of him. It winds him again when Andrew finally kisses him. There is no experience, no moment to compare this too; Andrew kissing him, the way his heart seems to beat even harder. Nathaniel kisses him with as much as he can, given the alcohol and the drugs, and the fact that the only two people he’s ever kissed like this was a hired hooker and Jean. 

The way their mouths move together is sloppy and uncoordinated, mostly because of Nathaniel, but Andrew doesn’t seem to care. One of his hands grips onto Nathaniel’s hip, fingernails digging into the skin. There are sure to be marks there later, though not as prominent as the ones Nathaniel is digging into the palms of his own hands. Half a second later, Andrew is using that hand to pull the shirt free of where it’s tucked into his pants, fingertips sliding against the taut skin of his abdomen. Nathaniel makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as their mouths part, and Andrew licks into his mouth like he’s trying to figure out every secret that may be hiding in him. 

“Andrew! C’mon, I wanna go on break! Where the fuck are you?” 

When they part Andrew’s teeth tug at his bottom lip, their foreheads inches from each other. Andrew’s face is still close enough that Nathaniel can feel each of his breaths on his skin. His mind is hazy, the rush still ever-present in his veins, though, now he isn’t sure whether it’s from whatever drug Andrew gave him or the kiss and his hands on his skin. An even amount of both, maybe, but he’s only guessing. 

“You’re interesting. So ready for a fight, but so easily trusting of strangers.” 

Nathaniel wants to argue that he knows much more about Andrew than he lets on, but he can’t do that without ruining the Raven’s chances of signing him. He keeps his mouth shut and adds a dumb smile to his lips. “Like I said before, I like to live on the edge.” 

This time it seems to annoy Andrew, as he finally lets go of his wrists and fully steps out of his space. A once over is all Nathaniel gets before Andrew is turning away, back down the hallway without pause. Before Nathaniel knows it, Andrew has turned the corner and disappeared into the mass of bodies. 

Now the only thing he can hear is the blood rushing through his veins, and the only thing he can feel is the ever-growing threat of throwing up right into the potted plant on the table. He quickly curses at the plant for staring him down, for knowing about this little secret he now shares with Andrew, and then uses the wall as a crutch to make it out of the staff hallways, and back into the open area where the bar is. 

The amount of people that he bumps into on the way back to Jean is roughly too many for him to count on his hands right now. When he finally gets to the bar and spots Jean, he bumps into another handful of people, ignoring their shouts and angry grumbling. One arm reaches out to grasp onto Jean’s shoulder, and using his grip to steady himself, he climbs up onto the barstool next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jean look at him, concern written in the line on his forehead. 

“Nath? What…?” Nathaniel manages to hold up a hand to stop whatever was going to come out of his mouth next. There’s no need to worry, he’ll be fine. “Don’t try and shush me, you look like hell.” 

“Pen? Napkin?” Nathaniel flags down one of the bartenders with a weak wave of his hand. One he’s never met before slides him a pen from behind her ear and a clean napkin on her way past. With as much effort as he can muster he picks up the pen, and slowly, as legibly as he possibly can, jots down his number. He signs it:  **_Interesting_ ** . “Give this to Nicky, to give to Andrew.” 

Jean takes the napkin from him and waves down Nicky, but Nathaniel can’t exactly pay attention to what he’s doing. He's trying his hardest to focus on not throwing up Indian food on the top of the bar. He hasn’t had too much to drink tonight, so he’s going to blame this feeling on whatever drugs Andrew’s given — and he’s accepted, like an idiot. Right about now, he’s feeling really over the fact that he so blindly agreed to take that drink. In fact, he isn’t sure that kiss was even worth it right now. Not only does he feel like emptying the contents of his stomach, but his head is pounding and his mouth feels drier than the Sahara desert. 

“Alright, c’mon.” 

Nathaniel lets his body be moved, leaning against Jean as much as he can to support himself. It isn’t that he can’t walk, but it’s easier to be led along by someone else so he can focus exclusively on not throwing up. Whoever said the Raven hive mind was a bad thing, has clearly never been in a situation like this one. Nathaniel doesn’t even have to say anything, Jean already knows exactly what he needs from him. 

The walkout of the bar is more difficult than he’d hoped; there are so many bodies packed into tables now in the late hour, the music is so loud it’s hard to think. All the time he spent working on footwork and spatial awareness isn’t paying off; Nathaniel keeps stumbling over his feet and walking into people. It must be something horrible because the next thing he knows, he’s being hoisted onto Jean’s back, hands holding him up from under his thighs. At least he manages to hold onto his own wrist around Jean’s neck so he doesn’t fall onto the floor. 

The rest of the night’s events don’t register in Nathaniel’s mind. He remembers Jean putting him into and pulling him out of the car, but doesn’t remember being put to bed, or having his shoes taken off, or throwing up in the bathroom at two in the morning. In fact, he barely remembers waking up at all in the morning.

By the time his brain catches up, Jean has already packed their bags and gotten him breakfast to eat on the way to the airport. Nathaniel makes quick work of changing into the clean set of clothes left out for him and slings his bag over his shoulder when he’s done. 

Jean informs him that he’d taken care of Riko last night when he’d called and given some brief story about how they hadn’t gotten much that night because Andrew had been working. Thankfully, Riko seemed to buy it which either meant he was too busy getting ready for their last match of the year, or he was all ready to move onto the attempt to recruit him and he didn’t care any further. Regardless, Nathaniel is happy as he munches on the breakfast sandwich and hash browns Jean’s gotten for him; one last hurrah before they’re back to only vegetables, chicken and protein shakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

Riko and Kevin pick them up for the airport, and they go directly into their room to watch videos of Penn State games to catch up on the strategy for their Friday game. There is no talk about their weekend trip away, which Nathaniel’s thankful for because all he remembers now is how Andrew’s body felt pressed against his, and he doubts Riko wants to hear about that. Nathaniel tries exceptionally hard to push all thoughts of Andrew out of his head, and cram every single bit of information on Penn State's strikers into it instead. Every stat, every preferred striking distance to the goal, even down to their footwork. 

It works for the most part. 

After a grueling Tuesday practice, where he and Jean are slammed with racquets across their backs for letting too many shots on goal, it was hard to focus on anything other than the pain radiating down his back and arms whenever he moved. It allows all thoughts of Andrew to vacate his mind; to be replaced with nothing but the current pain and all those stats on the strikers. In the end, he would choose Exy over anything else anyway. That was something he’d  _ always _ be certain of. 

The rest of the week is spent focusing on nothing but the last final he had left to take, and watching through more Penn State games with Kevin. Any free time is for practicing. If asked, by Friday, he’d be able to give a PowerPoint presentation and speech about each of Penn State’s strikers down to their shoe sizes with as much certainty as he says his own name. 

Nathaniel stretches his arms over his head, twisting at the waist far enough that he can hear his back crack. To his left, Jean and Kevin are both finishing up their shoelaces. Riko’s leaning against the lockers between them, arms crossed. The rest of the team is spread around the locker room finishing with their own gear, all of them as serious as the one before them. Today was the last game of the year. Another game to solidify their position at the top. 

His phone buzzes in his locker right as Riko is rounding them all up to head onto the court. He pauses before joining them to check who the message is from. Everyone who would be texting him is in the room; his mother would know he has a game. That only leaves  _ one _ person. 

Andrew. 

Jean gives him a pleading look to hurry up, Kevin gives him one to match, and Riko looks after him like he’s thinking of all the ways he could skin Nathaniel alive and make it last. Frankly, he doesn’t care about any of them. He reaches into the locker, procuring his phone to see the text. 

**unknown number**

_ your little game of stickball fucking sucks _

Every muscle in Nathaniel’s body feels like it’s going to give out at once. There’s no time to get into this right now; there’s no time to think back over all the things he and Jean said that might have given them away; there’s no time to think about what Riko is going to do. Nathaniel throws the phone back into his locker and slams the door shut before joining Jean in line, face schooled into a predatory look. Riko gives him one last look, a quick one, before leading them out onto the court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter took so long to get out, and i'm sorry, but it's finally here! the next chapter will have much more andriel interactions it in, i promise. just needed to get things rolling, but boy are we rolling now. 
> 
> a big thank you to [effy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isntyet) for beta-ing this chapter <3
> 
> come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kittsukii)


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